Chapter 25
By the end of the week, Julia had worn grooves into Leland’s hardwood floors. Not physically. Emotionally.
She drifted restlessly from room to room while Leland worked downstairs, trying and failing to convince herself she wasn’t slowly unraveling inside the prison his house had become.
The second floor had become her favorite place to hide from the monotony.
Huge east-facing windows overlooked the water through a carefully maintained stand of palms, sunshine turning the ocean silver beyond them in the afternoon.
She curled into the rattan swing chair near the windows and FaceTimed Cari—one of her few remaining connections with the outside world.
Her friend answered immediately from what looked like the kitchen at Devil’s Pointe.
“You look better,” Cari announced.
She snorted softly. “I’m going stir-crazy.”
“I figured. Good thing I called.”
Julia hesitated. “Um… Didn’t I call you?”
“Details.” Cari lowered her voice slightly. “You know I did some digging.”
Julia immediately felt guilty. “I don’t like this.”
“I know,” she said. “I really shouldn’t have. But you needed context. Especially if he won’t give it to you.” Her expression softened. “What I learned explains a lot.”
Julia’s gaze dropped to her hands, white-knuckled around each other, before giving a reluctant nod.
Cari exhaled slowly. “There was a fire when Leland was nine.”
She went still. “What?”
“House fire. Middle of the night.” Cari paused. “His father got him out through a bedroom window and went back in after his mother.”
Julia’s chest tightened, not breathing as she waited for the rest.
“They never made it out.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God…”
All she could picture was a little boy standing outside in the dark, watching his entire world burn down around him. Nine years old. Alone.
“Oh, Leland…” she whispered.
Cari gave her a moment before continuing. “That’s not all.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were. Afterward, he went to live with his grandparents. They were good people, supportive, but they had little money.”
Julia listened silently.
“He went to college on the GI Bill then served in the Army.”
Another pause.
“You want to know the man he really is?” Cari asked softly, answering without waiting. “When he finally had enough money, he moved his grandparents down here. They live in Fort Lauderdale now.”
The knot in Julia’s chest twisted harder. “He takes care of them?”
“Completely,” Cari said. “If you can’t find him on Sunday afternoons, that’s where he is.”
None of this matched people’s image of controlled, unreachable Leland Hale. But with a new perspective, she could understand the truth behind it. The distance, the refusal to get close to anyone. It wasn’t cruelty. It was survival.
Cari’s voice gentled further. “There’s one other thing.”
Julia looked up, emotion tightening her throat. “There can’t be.”
“I’m afraid so.” Cari hesitated this time. “Dev didn’t give details. I don’t think even he knows all of it. Just that there was a mission that went bad before the FBI.”
Julia already knew. Could feel it coming.
“He and one other from his unit were the only ones who returned alive,” Cari finished quietly.
Julia stared at the screen, heart aching for Leland. Not once. Not twice. Again and again. Loss layered over loss until it became a belief that loving someone meant burying them.
Cari watched her carefully. “Are you okay?”
Julia shook her head faintly. “I should never have asked,” Julia whispered.
“You didn’t. I offered. Besides, you needed to know,” Cari said gently. “It makes sense why loving you scares the hell out of him.”
Julia closed her eyes briefly. Because now she was terrified too.
After the call ended, she sat there for a long time, staring at nothing.
The house felt different now. Not just quiet. Haunted by everything he carried alone. Every room held traces of a man who had spent most of his life surviving loss and somehow still got up every morning and kept going. Her chest ached with it.
She heard the shower start faintly downstairs. Julia stood before she could think better of it and walked downstairs. The bathroom door was ajar. Steam curled through the room when she stepped inside.
Leland looked up from beneath the spray, water running over broad shoulders and down hard muscle. He tensed the second he saw her.
“What happened?”
Nothing. Everything. Julia shook her head once.
She didn’t trust herself to speak. Instead, she pulled off her clothes and got into the shower with him. Leland’s hands settled automatically at her waist, steadying her as she moved closer.
Protective by instinct. Always.
She finally understood why. Not completely. Maybe she never fully would. But enough to see the weight he carried beneath all that control. Enough to realize he probably thought letting people close was the cruelest thing he could do to them.
She wrapped her arms around him without speaking and pressed her cheek against his chest.
For a second, he remained completely still. As if he didn’t know what to do with her. Then, slowly, carefully, his arms closed around her.
Tighter than usual. Not possessive. Not sexual. Just… holding on.
Julia shut her eyes. The water pounded around them, warm and soothing, but she still felt the tension in him. The constant vigilance.
One of his hands slid into her wet hair. Gentle. His chin rested briefly against the top of her head.
When tears slipped free, mixing with the water against her cheeks, she was almost grateful he couldn’t separate one from the other.
Because this wasn’t fear or sadness for herself.
It was grief for the little boy who had lost his parents.
For the young soldier who came home wondering why.
For the man who fell in love and tried to have a future, only for it to end up costing him again.
Leland angled her away, so their eyes met. “Want to tell me what this is about?”
The question was quiet. Cautious.
“I will,” she whispered. “But not yet.”
He studied her for a second longer. When she pressed close and held him, he didn’t question it again.